


Dappled Things

by thingswithwings



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: M/M, human again
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-08-06
Updated: 2001-08-06
Packaged: 2017-10-23 23:58:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/256547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thingswithwings/pseuds/thingswithwings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three weeks since he changed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dappled Things

**Author's Note:**

> title from Gerard Manly Hopkins's poem, "Pied Beauty." I wrote this a million years ago.

Warm, warm flesh.

Blood spreading lavishly just below the surface, where skin is flushed and beaded with sweat.

Xander runs his tongue down Spike’s inner thigh, behind the knee, sucking on the soft, warm place there. Spike exhales softly, half laughing, as Xander laps gently at the pooled moisture.

Spike reaches down, grabs his lover by the shoulders. Pulls him up, slow and slick and hard, until they are forehead to forehead, both panting slightly with the effort. With the heat.

Xander’s hands run themselves (they have no direction, no orders from his brain) through platinum blonde hair. Roots grown out nearly an inch, now, brown-blonde and * soft *. He hasn’t cut it since he changed. Hasn’t dyed it, either. Three weeks.

And as Spike looks up expectantly into his lover’s face, awaiting motion of some sort, Xander’s brow furrows in confusion and he pulls back. Their legs remain tangled, a shiny-slick jumble as their cocks slide slowly, too slowly, against one another. Xander looks at his lover, and laughs softly.

Spike pauses, confused. Xander laughs again at his puzzled look, then runs his left index finger over the bridge of Spike’s nose. Left, then right. Hair in eyes, Xander bends over and kisses the spot he has touched.

Kiss leads to more kisses, and no explanation. Spike loses himself once again in the sensation, the friction, and as their bodies move together he forgets that soft chuckle, that feather-light touch over his nose.

Later, as Xander sleeps, Spike stumbles, half-awake, to the bathroom. As he washes his hands he glances, reflexively, up into the mirror.

And pauses as he sees what Xander saw.

Across his nose, quiet and unobtrusive, is a light dusting of freckles.

Spike smiles at his reflection, then returns to bed. He wraps warm arms around Xander, and sleeps.


End file.
